Birthday Boy
Everyone said to take his picture.
Today is little Johnny's birthday, there was a cake sitting in front of his innocent face.
The icing on the top was forming his name and he was happy at the way the stripped black and white ran across his that sweet food.
"Look at him…" said the smiling lips without eyes and nose; a head without a soul just a shadow of one a face. "All grown up"
"Look at him" said the proud lipstick covered mouth, her fingernail over the edges of a black camera, poised to take the picture of the small boy. "This our birthday boy"
His triangle party hat sitting on top of his head, pointing a bit to the left and instead of the ceiling. Seven birthday candles, dripping wax on the black and white cake.
His two palms met in a happy clap, "Happy birthday to me!"
"Paint the walls red. Paint them all red. Make sure they're wet and never dry" he sung almost to that tune of a baby's lullaby. "Once they're dead, they'll never come back alive"
Johnny looked at the cups all filled to the brim. Snake like fingers slid through one held it softly, as not to break the fragile plastic thing. But strong enough to keep it in his grasp.
His latest victim's head was rolling casually on the floor; his blood was marking all the way from where he butchered it off to that new spot. The forgotten mortal's face was facing the floor.
Bash his face.
Bash her face too.
There was no face to bash, just a blank circle with toning that made it look like skin. He looked from the sledgehammer in his hands to his parents' darkened features. They're smiles never ending like those smileys he sees posted everywhere.
The blood on the floor was like a never ending ocean.
Need more blood.
Need to color the floor.
"You're a murderer"
"You're a mad man"
"You're a psycho"
"You're a wacko"
And that was the last thing that was said by the poor girl. Her grabbed her by the throat and squeezed it tight. Her eyes went bulging out of their sockets.
Johnny was happy with the pace he goes, pulled out a knife from somewhere his black clothes and buried it deep in her body. Twisting it here and there; once in a while stopping to hear the screams.
As he pulled out the blade, he could see her eyes spinning from left to right, as if looking for a chance to escape. The gap between her chest and head was the size of the Milky Way.
The psychopath dragged his feet to the nearest drawer his hand could reach. When the man pulled on it, there were hooks inside.
He took two or three, well got another one for extra measure.
He went to the dying corpse, the shade of red such a familiar sight to his eyes.
Too familiar as they started forming an ocean on the floor
"Put one hook on top of her breast, push it in and leave the poor thing there to bleed"
Johnny must have her blood, his wall needs the feed.
"Smile for the camera, dear boy"
"Birthday boy"
"Don't forget to smile for the camera..."
"... Murder boy"
(SPACE HERE)
A/N: Since his past was never revealed, I was playing with the idea of Johnny's memories somehow connecting his present reality. Smile. As I have mentioned in my first JTHM story, I have never read the JTHM comic series. (Wikipedia has been nice to me) Read and review!